


Unofficial Records of a Disgruntled Shade

by Carnimalo



Category: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: F/M, Gen, Isekai, Loophole Exploitation, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Relationship Issues, Zara is dealing with problems she rather hates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-18 20:15:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20197522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carnimalo/pseuds/Carnimalo
Summary: Shades are supposed to be evil, psychotic bastards.  Powerful magicians, and masters of any weapon they lay their hands on.  Durza is a fine example of a shade: perfect and well rounded, with a taste for torture and arrogance.  What does he do in his spare time?  Taunting his subordinates and a co-worker.  Especially the co-worker.(Going under rewrite.  Thanks for reading this story!)





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this story. This is my first, and maybe my only fanfiction on this site. I was always wanted to explore various fantasy worlds. However, unlike some isekai stories, this story starts out kind of poorly for our protagonist(s?). Witness the utter humiliation and hopes of this character as she works around impossible environments, and become a literal pincushion by the second chap

In The Inheritance Cycle, shades are born from a mishap of magic, spirits, and possession of a host. Shades allude to shadows. And according to "Christopher Paolini, it was nearly impossible for a Shade to be good because of the inevitably evil nature of the spirit." The story even says that only evil spirits would take the opportunity to become a shade. 

But as I found, there are loopholes in these statements. If you think about it, the stories never really mention anything about unwilling spirits forced into becoming a shade, or even an extended clear explanation on the nature of spirits. 

It is generally left untouched, and for some, something to speculate about. Sadly, I am one of them and took advantage of it.

Most people are not born to suffer, but some are. However, they can still find a happy(ish) ending if they try.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To address the blessings of parenthood, as it is the only escape to a tormenting world, even in it's briefest moments. And three words that describe her "ex."

It was as hot as a dragon’s breath inside the forge. The safe-haven smelled of burnt pine, iron, and old stone. It crackled with dying embers, adding to the sounds of three pairs of feet

Despite the shielding and locking spells, the two children were able to burst into the workshop.

“Lucio! Luci! Get back here!” 

Despite the warnings, the children proceeded to ignore her as she chased them, around the forge tables and weapon stands full of unfinished projects. And regardless of her valiant efforts, the twins had long forgotten how to fear her. She sighed, paused mid-step, in a single bound, lunged forward. In the sudden burst of speed, she swinging them off their feet. 

“Lucio. Luci. That’s enough,” Zara scolded, shaking them as if to chase out the energy their tiny bodies held. They only looked up at her, with their grey eyes and olive faces. The twins blinked, like the cats that frequently visited her. Cat eyes, as she called this tactic. Their worst weapon. Worse than puppy eyes.

Zara growled. Won over, she set them back down instead of dragging them into their room for a scolding. Instead, she gave them a pat...and a gentle push out the door. Zara handed them a few trinkets to keep them busy. She knew they would be discarded later.

Watching the twins little backs as the duo left through the oak doors, she sighed. 

*Thump

Back to work. Returning to her former station, she proceeded to lift a screwdriver towards a screw between her fingers-

“Durza!”

-And gouged her pinkie instead.

For a moment, she zoned out, Zara remembered that shades had a delayed reaction to pain. However, they did not have delayed reactions to being startled, angered, and suddenly remembering one certain, very hated adversary.

As such, only three words of the first words that came out of her mouth. Coincidentally, those words describe the person just outside the door.

Like clockwork, Zara ripped out the offending tool, raced across the room, and ripped open the doors.

And right out the door, was Durza, bribing the now-startled children with candy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have forgotten to mention, this character will be tormented for a few chapters, but she will have some light moments.


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the perspective of The Shade and his onlook towards his unofficial subordinate. She still behaves like an oversized dwarf, doesn't she? He plans a plot with this semi-simpleton, sort of.

Durza, much like children, was startled by the sudden thunder caused by the oaken doors being slammed open by a very disgruntled Zara.

However, unlike them, he didn’t show it.

“Ah Zara, good to see you.”

Gentling shoving-pushing-brats to the side, he glided over to her.

Still looked like she had a bewildered show bird for hair. Also, it seems as if she had gained a few pounds more than the last time he saw her. She appeared to look like one of those pudgy housewives humans were so fond of.

To be fair, she did behave like one at times. She was clumsy and short, almost nothing like him save for the red of her hair and pale skin.

Muscles clenched, persistently glaring at him like a hawk, Zara rushed past him. She began to hustle her rewards from the slave shops away from him, down the hallway like a wounded mother cat. At that description, he might have unconsciously touched the former scars at his jaw-line. He smiled.

Zara continued to drag the brats, growling under her breath, until she reached a corner and disappeared. The sound of oak moved almost soundlessly across the marbled floors of the small mansion. Only moments later, Zara scurred back to him in an unmasked fit of rage.

She glared at him, every second turning every crevice etching her face harder and harder.

The words echoed the last time greeting, and the one before: “What. Now.”  
He continued to smile at her. 

Zara continued looked like a crossed pink dolphin.

Durza crossed his arms and loomed over her until his shadow covered her. Her face flustered under him, like the first time they drank together. 

Durza opened his mouth, to boast about the next mission he had been given.

But before he could, Zara viciously pointed one leather-clad finger at him.

She seethed, “This better be quick.” She did not attempt any physical contact, instead, she stomping across the hallway towards the “backyard.” He merely glided past her down the hallways.

Durza was the first to slide open the door, out-pacing the woman by ten steps, or whatever was her equivalent of ten steps.

He examined the dark, walled-in yard. Carved marble depicting the fearsome battles from history books, and the ever wistful and sad hopes of those who were too pathetic to live through these events. Ivy and various other plant life entangled an old shack, unmanaged and left to run wild.

Zara’s angry huffing interrupted the silence of the garden. Out of the corner of his maroon eye, he could make out her smudge in the background.

_”Close the door”_ he barked. The smudge grew larger until Zara was in view, rushing across the doorway and into the garden, but not fast enough. The door slammed on the heal her foot.

He didn't have to turn around to hear her attempt not to curse.

Zara’s figure moved in a jolt of energy, as she bumbled out into the garden. 

He didn’t even bother turning around.

Durza suddenly felt a rough hand on his cloak and was yanked down until he could feel Zara’s hot breath on the scalp of his head. 

He could almost hear the gears in her brain working away at how to insult him. As if she could-

“You're still wearing the King’s leftover drapes?”  
_Nevermind_. He reached out and elbowed her in the stomach. Unlike himself, Zara, he knew, was not fast as he was. Only thick leather stood in his way, and it fell apart like paper. He felt the soft interior of her stomach, or rather, her prominent paunch.

To show he was still the one in charge, he slid his sword out of its sheath, and swing it at her. She made a desperate attempt to block it with her ashy forearms. With little effort, he stopped just a hair away from her arm. 

To her credit, she wasn’t much of a warrior, huddled away in this hovel, hunched over like a dwarf and acting like a crazed cat lady with those “ex-slaves”. They were still very much just toys in the hands of an unkempt creature.

In defeat, Zara defensively put down her arms. She glared at him, peeling off her worn gloves, unveiling sharp, hardened nails. His jaw pulsed as a reminder of what happened last time. 

Though she was smaller, her muscles were also compacted from all the time she spent fumbling in the ember-lit forges. The wounds inflicted by those nails could make quick work of a mortal man. Durza was a shade, so there was just a ghostly reminder of that incident.

He gripped a strand of her feathery hair in one hand and sheathed the sword in the other. It seems she had managed to collect what little wit she had, as she pressed a nail to the red sheen of a hidden vein and the rest against the flesh of his hand.

It was silent at first, both of them visually taunting the other. Waiting to see who would make the first move to an endless scruffle. Then Durza spoke, “The ambush is tonight.”

Zara looked surprised at first, then she scowled.

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.” He let go of the truffle. Zara proceeded to sit down on the steps of the garden doorway, back against the door. So, he sat in front of her, grinning.

“You have the weapons ready?”

She glared, barely aware of his request for her weapons was just a way to mock her. As if they would work well in the hands of the krulls, who were just as stupid as she was ignorant of his plans.

Zara huffed, “Yes, much faster than you can finish kissing the King.”

His anger flared and he stood. 

“Just get them out.” 

Fixing him one last glare, Zara stood up as well, and walked down the hallway, back to the forge, where her inventions were. The only truly admirable thing about her.

He still laughed internally. Even as an important asset to the war, she was such a coward, always hiding in the shadows of even the most laughable things. Human men, women, _children_. __

_ __ _

Although, these objects of hers were not very laughable. At least, for the elven princess and her two-person guard.

_ __ _

Only confusion and death awaited them. 

_ _He could already smell the phantom fear and blood that would stain the air_ _

The plot, he knew, was unstable in some parts, but it was in place. Not too far away, a dragon egg was traveling through the Broken, the only, pathetically small spot the Empire was able to claim in the Spine, Zara’s current territory. And unbeknown to this master’s house, a possible, controllable young rider. If one died, well, there was the other.

_ __ _

The king would reward him greatly. And maybe Zara, if he wasn’t careful. But in his reality, most likely not. 

_ __ _

He twisted the pommel of his sword and sauntered back into the halls.

_ __ _


End file.
